


Four Times Castiel Attempted To Understand Humanity, And The One Time He Did

by context_please



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Because of Reasons, Cas makes a terrible human, Christmas Fluff, Crack, Explicit Language, Fluff, Gen, Human Castiel, five things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 17:19:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4445069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/context_please/pseuds/context_please
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What it says on the tin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Times Castiel Attempted To Understand Humanity, And The One Time He Did

Castiel as a human was annoying.

Sure, after being an angel, getting downgraded to ‘meat-sack’ isn’t exactly _fantastic_ , and then he’d caught a friggin _bus_ to save their asses, but this had to stop.

See, Dean knew how to put up with annoying habits – he had been living with Samantha all his life, after all – and how to brush aside the burst of _I’ll kill you_ and turn it into _Let’s find this evil son of a bitch_. Hunting was Dean’s buffer, his God-given immunity.

But not against Castiel.

It wasn’t even that Cas left the toothpaste open, or that he forgot to tell Dean when he drank the last of the beer. It wasn’t even the fact that he took suspiciously long showers and used up almost all the hot water, leaving just enough to make Dean think that he might get a hot shower after all – and subsequently putting him in a foul mood when freezing cold water _smashed him in the face_ mid-shower. No, it wasn’t any of those things.

Ironically, the most annoying thing about human-Castiel was the curiosity.

 

 

 

 

_1\.         The Great Tinsel Incident_

 

It all started when they went on their third hunt after the Pestilence thing. Cas’ Grace was being a hormonal bitch, only showing up every few days to make a spectacular reappearance, get Cas all hopeful, and then break his heart when it faded again. Cas’ Grace was like an indecisive, pissed of girlfriend.

And so, Cas was in the backseat when they pulled into the Rodeo Motel on the edge of Christine, Texas. The motel was exactly like the town; small, quiet and unremarkable.

Which is why the strange deaths were so obvious it was like plastering a neon sign on their roves saying _EVIL SON OF A BITCH WAZ HERE_. Some monsters were just _idiots_.

It looked like they were hunting a werewolf, just the standard fare, really, but they’d brought Cas along because, to be honest, he sucked at being human. Plus, there was no telling how moody and betrayed he’d feel if they left him behind, no matter how much danger he could be dragged into – or how bad he was at holding ID badges.

This motel, thankfully, was a lot better than the ones they usually stayed in. The key didn’t jam in the lock as he opened it, and the floor actually looked _clean_. Dean was impressed.

He dropped his duffel at the end of the nearest bed, flopping down onto his face and enjoying the stretch in his back, despite the overly springy mattress.

Dean was _so ready_ to just drift off peacefully, right there, fully clothed and unwashed, when a hand hesitantly tapped his shoulder.

‘Go away, Cas,’ he grumbled into the bedspread. Sam never did anything “hesitantly” with Dean anymore – he was more the type to throw a cushion or glass bottle or something. The bitch. ‘I’m sleeping.’

‘Dean,’ he said in that deep rumble, steamrolling him completely, ‘I am perplexed as to the purpose of this object.’

Dean groaned, forcing his head to the side and coming face-to-face with a handful of shiny green tinsel.

‘It’s tinsel,’ he replied, already feeling about a million times more exhausted.

‘What is it used for?’ the angel asked again, in that _I am asking politely but this knowledge is crucial to my continued existence_ tone.

Squinting at Castiel’s face, he gave himself a moment to see the burning curiosity in his eyes before he grumbled and turned his face back into the bed.

‘Dean –‘

‘It’s a decoration, Cas,’ Sam cut in. ‘It’s used to brighten a place up on special holidays.’

‘Oh,’ Castiel thought so hard that Dean could _feel_ it.

Sam suddenly gave a cry and wild rustling noises came from across the room.

When Dean looked up, it was to find an ocean of tinsel shimmering all around the room at waist height, flowing over onto his bed in _full Technicolor_. He couldn’t even see an inch of floor anywhere. How fantastic.

Even better; where Sam had been, all that remained was a madly moving clump of brightly coloured tinsel and muffled swearing.

Dean glanced to Castiel, still looming over him, but now standing in a sea of shiny plastic. The former angel glanced around the room, seemingly pleased, then reached out and placed the handful of green tinsel that started this _shit_ right on the back of Dean’s neck.

‘Cas, it’s not even a special holiday!’ Sam yelled from under the tinsel.

He ignored the Moose. ‘Is my decoration to your satisfaction, Dean?’

Dean gurgled incoherently and squished his face back into the mattress.

 

 

 

 

_2\.         The Antler Situation_

 

After the Great Tinsel Incident – which Dean immensely enjoyed mocking Sam about, because how could he resist? His brother had tinsel in his girly hair for _days_ – Cas had apparently decided to give the incessant questions a rest.

In terms of strategy, it was a sound one. Sam looked downright murderous every time Castiel opened his mouth in a way that even remotely suggested a question.

See, the problem with the Great Tinsel Incident was that while Castiel’s Grace had supplied the tinsel, it had fled before they could use it to un-zap all the shiny plastic crap.

Dean never wanted to see tinsel. _Ever_ again.

Unfortunately, the… Incident meant that they had spent so long on cleaning the friggin room of _all that_ residue that they had made absolutely _zero_ progress on the case.

Which, of course, meant that there had been another victim in the mean time.

‘Dean, look at this,’ Sam had demanded as soon as he returned with the breakfast.

A newspaper was shoved unceremoniously into his face, way too close to Dean’s nose, but he caught the headline anyway.

 

 

 

**DEATHS INCREASE IN CHRISTINE – TWO MORE BODIES FOUND**

POLICE HAVE REVEALED THAT A SERIAL KILLER IS RIPPING OUT THE HEARTS OF VICTIMS IN SOUTHERN TEXAS. RESIDENTS ARE ASKED TO STAY VIGILANT.

 

 

 

‘Friggin hell,’ Dean swore, throwing the newspaper to Cas. There was a frown of confusion on the former angel’s face over the expletive, but he didn’t vocalize his curiosity. Thank God.

Sam passed a coffee to Dean. ‘Crime scene?’

‘You betcha, Tinsel-Moose.’

Dean just grinned at the constipated expression on his little brother’s face, squeezing past him to grab the keys to the Impala and head outside.

The door made the usual creaking as he opened it and slid inside, firing up the engine and hearing his baby purr.

More creaking and then Sam was in the front seat brooding moodily like the girl he was, Cas in the back, and Dean started driving before they decided to get out and play with tinsel again.

Which is how Castiel saw his first set of car antlers.

It was a truly pitiful pair on a mid-sized SUV that looked like it never got cleaned, let alone examined closely. Christmas had to be two months away, at least, but this ass-hat had clearly lost track of real time. The antlers looked out of place on the SUV, all tiny and protruding straight up from the windows, made of felt and filled with stuffing. Jesus. Did the guy have absolutely _no pride_ in his car?

They were driving alongside it when Castiel suddenly interrupted Samantha’s silent treatment.

‘What are those objects stuck in the window?’ he asked, and it was _that tone_ again.

‘They’re reindeer antlers, Cas,’ Dean answered cautiously, then added under his breath, ‘Well, they’re _supposed to be_ , anyway.’

‘Why does the Impala have no antlers?’ he demanded, then steamrolled over any answer Dean may have given. ‘It seems that this car is missing a necessary feature,’ he continued. ‘Should it not –‘

Dean looked into the mirror then, catching the expression on Castiel’s face: one of intense concentration, and one that he certainly didn’t want to recognize.

‘Cas –‘ Dean started, but it was too late. Above him, the roof began to creak under the weight of something big; something heavy.

Instantly, he pulled the Impala off of the road, yanking on the handbrake and hurrying to get out the door. When he stood, a solid object hit him in the back of the head, forcing him forwards as a curse erupted from his lips. Turning on his heel, Dean came face-to-face with a pair of fuzzy, protruding, huge reindeer antlers. They looked alive, like they’d just grown there.

_On the roof of his baby._

Dean could have sworn he saw red. The haze thickened even further when he saw they had been welded into the roof and towered above it in multitudes of friggin forks and branches.

He turned, slowly; ready to decapitate an easy-to-kill-now-human-angel, when he saw the guilty expression. Which, obviously, had to mean that his Grace had pissed off again.

Grabbing him by the collar, Dean slammed him against the Impala, purposefully hitting Castiel’s head on the antlers as he did so, and growled, ‘Get Balthazar here, right now.’

 

 

 

_3.         Mission: Shopping_

 

After enduring the British bastard’s hysterical laughter for what felt like _years_ , and somehow managing to blackmail Balthazar into fixing his baby, they visited the crime scene. They found just about everything they expected to find. Dean did, however, get pointed in the direction of the victim’s roommate, who, of _friggin course_ , had to work at the local mall.

As soon as they walked into the shopping mall, they were assaulted.

_Silent Night_ was playing over the mall speakers, barely audible over all the people scrambling to preserve some semblance of _shopping_ – which was more like clambering over each other to get the right sized shirt. A countdown hanging from the roof told Dean just how wrong he’d been at how far away Christmas was.

 

 

**03 DAYS TILL CHRISTMAS!**

**MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR!**

 

 

Oh. Right, then.

Sam, Dean and Castiel fought their way through the crowds until they found the store the roommate supposedly worked in.

‘What is the purpose of these boxes?’ Castiel asked from beside him.

He was standing by the store’s display of fake presents, picking them up and shaking them.

‘They’re supposed to be presents,’ Dean answered, really not in the mood and wishing he was anywhere but here, ‘You know, for Christmas. You’re supposed to give each other gifts.’

‘Oh,’ Castiel said, and handed Dean the empty display box. ‘Merry Christmas, Dean.’

‘Gee, thanks,’ Dean snapped, putting the package back on the pile. ‘You know, Cas,’ he growled, shoving himself right up into his friend’s face and fisting his collar, ‘for all that you used to be the all-knowing angel, you seem to be completely friggin clueless. You’ve been watching us since forever! Come _on,_ Cas! You know the purpose of a present, and the purpose of Christmas.’

Castiel’s expression was crestfallen, blue eyes sad and hurt. ‘I am… sorry, Dean. I did not mean to vex you.’

Exhaling violently, Dean let go of his trench coat – which the stubborn bastard _still_ refused to get rid of – and stepped back, turning away and running a hand down his face. The frustration was still there, simmering beneath the surface as it always had, but now he also felt guilty for bringing up all of Castiel’s pain again. Dean _knew_ how hard his friend had taken the Fall. Sighing again, he put all of the annoyance behind him.

Dean turned around with a smile, patted the former angel’s shoulder comfortingly. ‘Don’t worry, Cas. We humans can be hard to understand sometimes.’ He didn’t add, _Even I don’t understand humans_.

 

 

 

_4.         With Alcohol_

 

The thing about Castiel as a human was that he was a _total lightweight_.

He had four beers, two shots and he was wasted. To be honest, Dean actually thought it was a hilarious sight to behold. What usually began as an innocent beer with dinner ended in a drunk former angel.

On nights like tonight, there was no exception. Dean would laugh hysterically at Castiel’s antics, usually ending up on the floor clutching his sides while Sam would look on in feigned disapproval, but was clearly trying to keep the laughter in.

Cas had already downed three beers and a shot of Jack. He was most definitely tipsy.

‘Deeeeeaaan,’ he crooned.

Sam’s mouth was twitching madly.

‘Yeah, Cas?’ Dean responded absently, busy watching the rerun of _Doctor Sexy M.D._ on the crappy motel TV.

‘Why do you and Sam not celebrate Christmas?’

Dean muted the TV – kind of pissed off that he’d been interrupted, but pushing it aside – and turned to Castiel. His friend’s face was open, vulnerable and confused, but this time it didn’t irritate Dean in the least.

‘We just never had time for that stuff,’ Dean answered. ‘We were too busy hunting Christmas ghosts and evil sons of bitches that only come out during the “merry season”.’

‘So you never received or gave presents?’

‘Sure, when we were kids, but not later. We never really had enough money.’

‘Oh,’ Cas said, and it was becoming a habit of his.

After a moment of silence, Sam broke the tension. ‘Christmas is also a _really weird_ holiday. Did you know that it’s a mix of about a million different religions? Santa used to be Odin and the Romans couldn’t decide on the date of Jesus’ birthday and….’

Castiel just smiled.

Dean sometimes loved his nerd brother.

 

 

 

 

_5\.         The One Time He Did_

 

Castiel had managed not to ask a single question for the next three days.

Dean was actually feeling good when he woke up that morning – well-rested and energized. He wasn’t injured and his muscles weren’t aching. He counted that as a win.

When he sat up, pushing the covers back and squinting through the morning light, Cas was sitting at the crappy motel table, clearly waiting for Dean to get up. His back was to Dean and he was staring out of the window.

Sam burst into the motel room at that moment, calling, ‘Rise and shine, jerk!’ and sitting down at the table, placing the coffees there.

Dean hauled himself out of bed, sat, grabbed a cup, then looked to Castiel.

He had a present in each hand, wrapped in sickeningly bright paper covered with kittens and puppies. Dean felt dread begin to trickle into his gut.

Castiel smiled at each of them and placed his gifts in front of Sam and Dean. ‘Merry Christmas,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Time to open your presents.’

Sam reached for his, tearing open the wrapping with no hesitation (the kid always had loved Christmas) and pulling out an ancient-looking book.

‘It’s an original copy of Sir Thomas North’s Translation of Plutarch’s Life of Caesar,’ Castiel supplied helpfully while Sam was still making bedroom eyes at the unmarked leather of the cover.

His brother squealed – just like the girl he was – gave Cas huge shiny thanks eyes, and proceeded to hug the book to his chest, clearly intending to never let go.

Dean reached for his gift, trepidation curling in his gut, and slowly peeled off the wrapping.

There, nestled in the bright paper, was his amulet. The one he’d gotten as a present from Sammy all those years ago – and the one physical possession he had ever cared about, other than his baby. He had never admitted that he’d missed it, but he felt so naked without Sam’s Christmas present from years ago, the one present he’d ever gotten. And here it was, shiny as the day he got it; the perfect gift. It felt like a piece of Dean was coming home.

‘Thanks, Cas,’ he said around the lump in his throat. He coughed to clear it, slipping the amulet over his head and feeling the familiar, comforting weight of it against his chest. Finally, he protested, ‘but we didn’t get you anything.’

Cas smiled gently at him. ‘You already did,’ he said, reaching out to pat his shoulder. ‘You helped me to understand humanity.’

**Author's Note:**

> Shameless Christmas fluff, right here.
> 
> Cas tries so hard to be human, so I couldn't resist this. 
> 
> This was written for Christmas in 2013, but I never got around to posting it...


End file.
